Salty in the AM!

Did you know that Italians had timers in their mouths? Me either. But it's my latest discovery. There are blocks of time in the day reserved for savory, sour, salty and blocks of time reserved for sweet. Any correctly raised Italian has this feature, but they must have grown up in Italy to acquire it. And be careful too.

They are quick to notice when this divine order is interrupted. Sure, it varies slightly from the south to the north, considering that meal times in the north span from about 8 am to 9 pm, and those in the south roughly from 10 am to 11 pm. Consider that I prepared myself a frittata around 9 am one morning, which is roughly an omelet with fewer ingredients (onions and zucchini and eggs, plus parmesan). As people meandered into the kitchen for their morning coffee with cookies and a cigarette, I went on about my business. As sleepy as they were (there are five others who live in this house with me, let's say two of them were up), their acute noses and mouth timers told them something was awry. They sidled up to me curiously and tried to hide their grimaces as they verifired what their sensory organs were telling them was true: SALTY for breakfast!! Salty in the AM alert! Salty in the AM alert! Salty comes only after 1 pm! (Which allows Italians to eat cookies for breakfast, an act of pure barbary if you ask me!)

I made a pumpkin pie this weekend at Giovanni's house, and his family said they like it. His cousin suggested that it would work better as an antipasto than as a desert because of the sweet/savory contrast because the crust had no sugar and she perceived it immediately.

It's 10:35 in the morning and I'm about to go heat up some lasagne for lunch because I have a 3 hour class ahead of me. Hopefully no one comes into the kitchen...

Discorso italiano

Well as they say, I'm sotto esame...the test is tomorrow so what better time than to clean my bathroom, put away my clothes, check my email, and update THE BLOG than this?

It's November already. I guess someday I'll stop being flabbergasted at the way time keeps passing, but not yet. Still fully flabbergasted.

My exam is in art history, Giotto, gothic architecture, the beginning of the Renaissance, etc. One nice feature of the class is that we're taking field trips as much as we spend time in the classroom, so we're also getting a tour of Bologna's art history and comparing it with the trends of greater Italy and the rest of Europe. Not a bad way to study art history, if it really must be studied.

I think I've slid into a phase of really enjoying being here. On the one hand, it feels pretty normal, just as if I've finally adjusted to a routine change of place (not crossing political/linguistic/geographical borders). On the other, I realize that there are genuine differences between my life here and that in Santa Cruz...I'm still of course Robyn, which means I take studying really seriously and freak out regularly about not understanding everything and not being perfect, but I find it easier to be social here. Perhaps I finally became the mysterious and interesting exchange student whose company I always pursue at home, but I think social norms are very different between university students at home and those here. Eating is a sacred ritual for example, that, if occasionally observed with Italians, can really compose a completely fulfilling social life. For me, it's enough in fact. I've yet to hit all of the bars in Bologna or see the inside of any disco club, but I'm content spending long hours on many courses and rich, undulating, comfortable conversation that mirrors the food in its quality.

I have spent all of my entries thus far criticizing various aspects of my experience and what I perceive as Italian culture, but I do deeply respect what I like to call the Italian gift for rhetoric and discourse. There is no subject too mundane to transform into a vivid conversation peppered with opinions and conjectures and decisive conclusions. And given my linguistic background with the esteemed Jim McCloskey, I can sit back and enjoy what he recognizes as verbal stroking...this professor of mine at Santa Cruz has voiced the opinion that language is used largely for the purpose of joking, social interaction, social connection, rather than comunication in the information-transmitting sense of the word. I like this idea. And if social interaction contributes to health, I think that rather than Mediterranean cuisine, language and conversation contribute in extraordinary ways to the general health of the Italian population. After all, studies show that Italians are among the healthiest in Europe, and let me just say that it's certainly not the smoking that's keeping them beautiful.

I've been making a concerted effort to spend more time with Italians after a particularly English-intensive bout that I spent a few weeks ago...after all, I already know that language. I'm not really here to speak it, and THE BLOG keeps me from getting rusty, naturally.

I went to a graduation party last week for a housemate. The graduations consist of presenting a 50 to 80 page thesis to a panel of professors in your department who you probably don't know, after which you are told your grade for your thesis. Then everyone else who presented to the panel on that particular day crowds into the examination room with friends and family and the overall grade for their degree is announced in front of everyone, and they are pronounced a graduate in X field. We came back to the house for cocktails (we recently had a new housemate move in who's an aspiring professional bartender and is training with Giovanni's housemate at the Drink Factory, a bartending school :)) and later meandered, all 35 of us, to an upscale restaurant for antipasti, two main courses, a dessert, and neverending wine. It's questionable whether I'll come back having passed any classes here. But I'll definitely have a new cookbook full of recipes on my mental bookshelf.

Until next time...